Lucilla Eulogy Funeral Mass, August 8, 2001

The saying 'the good die young' is often invoked at a time like this. It is apt - with two words that are very relevant to Lucilla - good and young. The 'young', of course, Lucilla would particularly like. The biggest complaint she had about her recent illness was the amount of times she was asked for her date of birth for the myriad forms, which she would only grudgingly release saying good-naturedly "have I no dignity left when I can't even lie about my age?…"

But apart from her age, which was indeed young, Lucilla was very young at heart. There was a large part of the child in her and I think it is this quality that endeared her to so many. She loved a bit of fun, and her main quest each day was to find something amusing and then relay it to every single person she came into contact with. The story would sprout wings as the day wore on until it could take flight all on its own, so even if you were with her all day, you would never get bored.

That sense of fun is what magnetised people. Even now, if someone asks you whose class you were in at Holy Child, you just say 'Lucilla Hyland's' and that will peg you. Wherever she was, trouble was sure to shadow. In fact, Sr. Madeleine noted yesterday that all the Holy Child girls she saw at the removal seemed to be the bold ones. Lucilla would take that as the highest compliment.

Her mischievous streak never deserted her - even though she was madly interested in all children and unfailingly generous, rummaging in her handbag for money every time she met one, she loved the bold ones most and would egg them on endlessly, much to the horror of their mothers who have since become models of virtuous behaviour. But for all this, she had a strong sense of responsibility and what was appropriate and kept both sides of her personality in parallel. As Sr. Geraldine wrote in a 1977 report card: "Lucilla demonstrates an extra ordinary combination of sincerity and flippancy in her approach to life in general and religion in particular". I think that was a subtle dig at the time, but it was actually very perceptive and one of the keys to her appeal.

Like all her family, she had a great capacity for contentment. She found happiness in the small things, in the here and now. She wasn't at all covetous -- unlike many, she wasn't constantly in search of what she didn't have -- with the exception of a big house to accommodate her passion for antique furniture. She appreciated everything. Even the night before her operation, she said over and over: "I've had the best week, I've enjoyed myself thoroughly and I don't have a care in the world". All because of one good week in which she had dinner with her family in Ballinderry, several meals out with friends, one of our card nights and pigging-out sessions with Robert and David and, of course, endless chatter morning, noon and night with Marguerite. A packed schedule, as she liked it.

The other word in that little sentence 'the good die young' is 'good'. Lucilla was a very good person. Generous to a fault -- in word and deed, she was, without doubt, the most selfless person I have ever known. Her heart was gigantic. All her life, she put everyone before herself, and her sensitivity to the feelings of others, particularly the underdog, was incredibly fine-tuned. A typical example of her selflessness was recently in the hospital, when it took a young fellow 17 attempts at drawing blood from her before he called for reinforcements. When I said ' ah Lucilla, why didn't you say 'come on, let's get the show on the road here', she said "oh, Claire, he was only a junior -- I couldn't ruin his confidence..."

Her selflessness and capacity to give and empathise is what made Lucilla the best of everything - the best daughter to Brendan and Mary - always, but never more so than in the last year of their lives; the best sister and buddy to her only and adored sister, Marguerite, and to brothers Francis, her darling Bobby whom she worshipped ever since I first met her, John, and David. It is what made her the best niece to Kathleen and Noel. And it is what made her the best friend, not just to me, but to several others, a few whose children are her godchildren.

Though we are all very sad that she has parted, there are truly many blessings:

• She was shown enormous love the past few months and everyone vocalised and demonstrated how much she meant to them. So she learnt her value, and that is something many people never learn in life.

• She was fortunate to find an exceptional doctor in Mr Tom Walsh and a team in Blanchardstown hospital who treated her like one of the family and wiped away all her worries.

• Despite her four months of ill-health, she had fun, and said many a time: "Didn't we still have a laugh today?" As she said, no matter how bad it got, she still got in at least one laugh a day.

• She was given the most amazing grace, strength and courage to cope with her illness. She suffered physically, but her mind and emotional state barely faltered. For all her child-like qualities, she was very grown-up about her fate. She tackled the reality head-on and was most diligent about tidying her affairs, writing goodbye letters to her family before the operation to be held just in case, sending thank you notes to her doctors, and in her true event management style, specifying her wishes for an occasion like this, even down to insisting that the funeral notice include 'off Killiney Hill Road' so people would find the church. She didn't want any hassle or for her family to suffer unnecessarily. This not only eased her mind but it has been a tremendous help to those who loved her.

• She was not afraid of dying, only sad about the parting. That never had to happen because she died full of optimism. She flew through her operation as she intended, propped up in the chair in ICU 48 hours after surgery, playing Scrabble. She said the operation was easier than expected and to tell her friends that it was 'a piece of cake'.

• About the last thing she said to me, when I told her that her friends had decided to have a Lucy Ball in October to raise funds for her surgeon's research was 'I'm very pleased about that, Claire - that makes me very happy' with a wide smile on her face. Even the ICU nurse reminded me of that the other day. Later that night, she saw Marguerite and thereafter, her lungs failed and she was not really aware or in any pain while we hoped and prayed for a recovery for three weeks. Ironically, I believe now that our prayers were answered, as it appears from the aftermath that her cancer was systemic and her future very bleak. She was spared that, and instead went to sleep on a high, without having to do the only thing she couldn't face, which was saying goodbye.

Thank you, God, for these blessings, and thank you for the gift of Lucilla.

Claire Cronin